


In A Yellow Wood

by Shinybug



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, First Time, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-19
Updated: 2011-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-22 20:13:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinybug/pseuds/Shinybug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a perfectly ordinary day, no more likely to be the day Arthur died than any other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In A Yellow Wood

*~*~*~*

The midnight bell had already rung when Merlin opened his door to Morgana's hesitant scratching. Gaius slept on in the corner of his workroom, and Merlin looked at Morgana's pale face in total incomprehension.

"Merlin," she began in a whisper, her dark eyes intent on his, "I need to talk to you."

"Um," he said, casting about for some more intelligent answer, thoughts of propriety and the late hour and ' _what_?' flitting quickly through his mind. Finally he nodded and let her in, closing the door silently behind her, unable to spit out any actual reason why he shouldn't, when she looked like that.

Morgana twisted her hands in her shawl and the folds of her nightdress, and Merlin had seen her in far more revealing ballgowns, but still his eyes shied away from the stark whiteness of the thin linen, aware of the difference in their stations in a way he never seemed to be when it was Arthur standing before him. His gaze fell instead on the absolute rubbish of his little room, and hastily kicked some piles of clothing and books off into the corner. He ran his hand over his hair in embarrassment, and lit a candle.

Morgana looked for all the world as though they might have been standing knee deep in blood and gore in the middle of a battlefield and she would have paid it just as much mind as she did Merlin's room. She was searching Merlin's face like it was a map of some treacherous path she feared to travel, and it both mystified and terrified him.

"It’s about the hunt tomorrow," she said finally, and after that innocuous statement her knees seemed to give out, so Merlin caught her by the arms and shoved her gently into the little rough hewn chair he kept at his bedside.

He sat down before her on the edge of his bed and handed her a cup of water. "What about it?”

“I just came from Arthur’s room. He refused to listen to me, and I could not give him a good enough reason to call off the hunt, or just not go himself. He said I was being a silly nitwit, and the French ambassador is here and he has to make a good impression for the trade negotiations, and you know how Arthur gets when--”

"My lady," Merlin interrupted gently, and her eyes came back to his, focusing. "What of it?"

"I had a dream. My dreams, some of them..." She looked scared, pale as snow.

Merlin stared at the floor, indecision briefly paralyzing him. He took a deep breath."You don't have to be afraid to tell me. I know about your dreams, what they mean. I've known for a while."

"And I know what you are," Morgana replied, her voice wavering only slightly.

"Oh," Merlin said, and then a moment later the implications washed over him, their mutual secrets unfolding like flowers opening to the light. It made him hot and dizzy so he shut his eyes hard and then opened them again, and Morgana looked just as startled as he felt. Then she smiled a little, shyly, and it was an odd expression to see on her normally confident face so Merlin smiled back, and then they were grinning and trying to muffle their inappropriate, giddy laughter.

"God," Morgana breathed out shakily. "That felt better than I expected it would. Not even Gwen knows my secret, although I suspect Gaius has figured it out."

Merlin nodded. "He was the one who told me, but it was only to help save your life. I would never tell anyone else. And if it helps, Gaius knows my secret too."

"And now I do. Let's keep it that way, Merlin. It's not the right time to tell."

He frowned. "I wasn't planning on telling anyone, at least not while Uther is king. I don't have a death wish."

Morgana took a deep breath. "It wouldn't be a matter of telling. The problem would be in the showing."

"What did you dream?" he asked, searching her solemn face.

She spread out her hands in her lap, looking at them but seeing something else entirely. "We're hunting, all of us, Uther too, and something--happens--a beast, I think, but I'm not sure. I see blood on the ground, so much blood."

"And Arthur?" Merlin couldn't help asking, knowing that so many of Morgana's visions revolved around Arthur the way Merlin's own destiny seemed to, as though Arthur had his own cosmic pull like the moon on the tides.

"Dead. Maybe." She shuddered once, lightly.

"If he won’t call off the hunt, I'll just protect him the way I've been doing, if it comes to it," Merlin assured her, ignoring the way his heart was skipping painfully.

"No! You can't, there's more." Morgana pressed her hands briefly to her face, then reached for Merlin's hand and held it tightly in hers. "I see you saving him, clear as day, only everyone-- _everyone_ \--sees you do it. Your life is forfeit, Merlin, if you save Arthur. I can see the pyre, I can smell the smoke. I know it's not meant to end that way, but it could."

Merlin shook his head, coldness creeping through her icy fingers into his. "I can't just stand there and watch Arthur die. I know myself too well, and in the decision of a moment, my life isn't as important to me as his is." It felt odd to voice it aloud, this strange lack of self-preservation he had, and the words hung in the air almost visibly after he'd said them.

She leaned forward, urgent. "If you save him, everything falls apart. Because of your death Arthur will never become the king we know he could be. He will turn cruel, pitted against Uther. Civil war, Merlin, a kingdom divided, do you see? Do you understand? Arthur will rule, but at what great cost?"

"That's ridiculous, I'm not that important to Arthur. I mean, he might be a little fond, maybe, but..."

"This is not the time to be self-deprecating, Merlin. You mean so much more than that to Arthur, whether he's told you or not."

"If he's alive...if he's alive, it's worth it," Merlin answered stubbornly, his throat dry.

Morgana smiled, but her eyes were so, so sad. "No, it's not. I love Arthur too, but it's not."

Merlin looked down at their clasped hands, understanding that more than one of his secrets had unfolded to her, and he wanted to ask if she had seen that in a vision too of things to come for him, a possible future, or if she simply recognized in him a kindred longing for someone unattainable. He found he didn't have the courage to ask.

"It's not certain, Merlin. Arthur's death tomorrow, I don't see it for a certainty, not like I see yours if you interfere. I see...two roads diverging in a yellow wood. Different paths to take, different outcomes. I have to ask you to trust me, and to trust Arthur and his men, and fate, and the possibility that tomorrow's tragedy might not be a mortal one, and just let it happen."

Merlin stood up abruptly and paced to the high window of his room, staring up at the stars half-hidden behind shifting clouds. "I can't promise I won't act, if he's in trouble. It's not always conscious, the way my magic works. I could promise not to cast any spells, but sometimes it just...leaks out, whether I want it to or not."

Morgana came up behind him, resting her hand on his shoulder. He turned to look down at her, and her eyes were dark pools, mortal and without magic, though Merlin knew what slept within her mind. "I understand, and it's your choice, regardless. All I can do is warn you. I don't have magic the way you do, Merlin, I can only see things that might happen and often do come to pass, and I'm so weary of holding my tongue for fear of being discovered. I had a dream of you, of the hunt and your eyes glowing gold, and magic pouring from your hands and Arthur lifted from danger, and I saw so many other possible paths too, so many directions we could all go."

She gripped his arm tightly, tight enough to hurt. "I'm selfish, and as much as I want Arthur to live I want you to live too. I want someone to share this with. I want my gift to be a gift and not a curse, to be worth something in the end. I need a friend and ally in you, Merlin, just as much as Arthur does."

In a million years Merlin would never have seen that coming, though foolishly he began to wonder if he should have. He'd been alone with his magic for so long that he hadn't considered that Morgana was alone too, and scared. He swallowed hard, then took her hand, feeling bruises begin to rise on his arm where her nails had dug in. "My lady, I will keep your secret if you will keep mine, and I will put my trust in you if you will do the same with me. If you would ride with me tomorrow, I will try not to do any magic."

She sighed, leaning her forehead against his shoulder, and already Merlin could feel the barriers of class dissolving. As a fine lady Morgana could never be his friend, but as a Seer hiding from the king's wrath and as one who shared Merlin's love of the prince, they were kindred. He put his arm around her and held her lightly, feeling her shake with relief.

"Thank you," she whispered, drawing together her strength in a deep breath, stepping back and giving him a brave smile.

"Morgana," Merlin said softly, unable to help himself, and she turned at the door. "If I do nothing, and Arthur lives...what do you see then?"

Her slow smile held all kinds of emotions in it, tangled and messy and lovely, and the only one Merlin could pick truly was hope. Then she slipped silently out the door and left Merlin alone with his imaginings.

*~*~*~*

Arthur actually noticed Merlin's silence the next morning while Merlin helped him into his light maille and hunting gear. When questioned about it, Merlin just shrugged and said he didn't feel much like hunting. He really didn't know what else to say, since he couldn't say, ' _Morgana had another vision of your horrible death so it might be better for all concerned if you, you know, stayed home_.'

Arthur just smirked at him in that way he did sometimes, irritated but strangely fond, and Merlin's heart turned over. "That's only because you are just as terrible at hunting game as you are at everything else," Arthur said slowly, as though Merlin was slow of wit and needed his own shortcomings explained to him. "You don't really have to go, I suppose. If you don't want to."

Merlin stared at him with wide eyes while Arthur shifted uncomfortably. Arthur had never before offered to let Merlin skive off of anything, and he didn't quite know what to make of it, or the light tone in Arthur's voice that said he really would rather Merlin came hunting after all. He recalled what Morgana had said about how much he meant to Arthur, and his thoughts shied away from it. It was dangerous to want.

He wrapped his fingers around Arthur's wrist in the pretense of buttoning the sleeve cuff, needing to feel Arthur's warmth just for a moment inside his hands. "No, it's all right. I'll go with you," he said softly, concentrating on the button. "I'm escorting Lady Morgana anyway," he added, just to see Arthur's reaction.

Which was a dark frown.

"Why?" Arthur asked, and there was nothing light about his voice now.

Merlin blinked. "I suppose because she thinks I'm better company than you are?" he couldn't help but reply.

Arthur's eyes narrowed and he jerked his arm away, doing up the button himself. Although Merlin felt immediately colder, he was more comfortable on the solid ground of their tempestuous working relationship. "Well, just...don't let her do anything foolish, like try to take down a boar on her own or something."

"She's not the one I'm worried about," Merlin muttered under his breath, then, "Hmm? Oh, nothing," when Arthur whipped around to glare suspiciously at him.

*~*~*~*

The day of the hunt had dawned gray and cold, a wintry wind blowing early in the season, loosening the red and gold leaves from the trees to swirl around the hunting party like banners on a feast day. It was a perfectly ordinary day, no more likely to be the day Arthur died than any other. Not that that was saying much.

Arthur rode at the head of the party with the king and the French ambassador, who was dressed in hunting finery that was apparently the current fashion in France, which Merlin thought made him look like a stuffed, purple-feathered bird. Perhaps the ambassador’s outfit would frighten away any game or treacherous beasts they might come upon, and they could all go home and have a cheery evening by the fire.

Merlin rode with Morgana, whose face was pale as a snowdrift beneath her woolen hood, her black hair tucked back so tightly that not a strand could escape in the wind. He tried to engage her in small talk while the dogs searched for a scent among the fallen leaves, and she seemed grateful for it if not overly inclined to chat. Arthur kept looking over his shoulder at them, perplexed and maybe a little irritated, like they were a riddle he'd been puzzling on without success. Every time Arthur looked back Morgana would stare at him like it was the last glimpse she might ever have of him, and finally Merlin risked all propriety to reach over and take her gloved hand in his, squeezing to get her attention.

When she looked at him, startled, Merlin gave her a grin and raised his eyebrows, which eased her mood enough that she smiled in return and tightened her fingers on his in acknowledgment.

"It'll be all right, my lady," Merlin murmured, even if he wasn't sure of it himself. "Whichever way it goes."

The hounds bayed for a scent and they were off, hooves pounding through the forest, branches of trees whipping past their heads in a blur. A stag was cornered, caught, brought down by Sir Dinadan and Sir Kay, and Arthur was nowhere near the fray. Merlin caught Morgana's eye and nodded, as though one hurdle had been cleared in a course neither of them were sure of.

Morgana's horse had picked up a stone and one of the pages attended her in removing it and checking the horse's soundness, and Arthur beckoned Merlin over. He led his horse behind him and joined Arthur near the kill where huntsmen were dressing it.

"What is going on here?" Arthur asked in a low tone that didn't carry past Merlin's ears but nevertheless held a great deal of tension.

"Where?" Merlin looked around in confusion.

Arthur cuffed him in the head. "Between you and Morgana, lackwit. What precisely do you think you're doing?"

Merlin shook his head quickly. "Nothing improper, if that's what you mean."

He jerked Merlin closer with a fist in his tunic. "Listen to me, Merlin. If my father saw you holding her hand like I just did a few minutes ago, you'd be not only out of a job but out of the kingdom. Do you understand me?"

Merlin swallowed hard, nodding. Arthur's face was so close to his that he could feel Arthur's breath on his mouth, warming gusts in the cold air that made him shiver and want. "I swear. There isn't anything between us. We're just friends," he said without thinking.

Arthur's mouth twisted up. "You can't be friends with Morgana, idiot. Servants aren't friends with the nobility. It's just not done."

"Of course. My mistake."

"No one would understand. It would be misconstrued, there would be rumors," Arthur continued, frowning and distinctly unhappy.

Merlin covered Arthur's hand with his and slowly uncurled Arthur's fingers from his tunic, wondering if they were still talking about Morgana. "I understand."

"They would send you away." He sounded almost anxious.

"I can be discreet," Merlin murmured, and Arthur's eyes flashed, and they were definitely not talking about Morgana now.

"See that you are," Arthur said, his voice rough, and his gaze raked over Merlin's face once before he turned away abruptly, and Merlin staggered a little and wondered if the whole conversation had been in his imagination.

He looked back to Morgana, who met his gaze with confusion and a little concern, and Merlin just shrugged and rolled his eyes, willing his heart to slow down. Morgana nodded and smiled a bit, relaxing, and---

\--all hell broke loose.

Arthur's greyhound caught a scent and tore off through the underbrush yelping madly, that specific cry that said ' _boar_ ,' and Arthur was after it in a flash on his horse, leaving the others in the hunting party to scramble for their mounts in confusion, some of them dedicated to field dressing the stag they'd already taken. Merlin cursed and flung himself into his saddle and followed at a mad gallop before anyone else could muster up.

Arthur's horse was easy to follow, its brilliant white coat flashing through the trees, and after a minute Morgana was beside him, her mare fleet of foot and desperation driving her to push harder than she might otherwise. One glance back showed the king hard on their heels.

They heard the terrible animal screaming before they reached the clearing, and then they were upon the scene and there was blood and the thrashing of hooves. The horse had been cut out from under Arthur by the charging boar, front legs broken and flailing, and Arthur was struggling to get out from under the horse's belly where he was pinned. The hound was making a terrible racket nearby, barking and growling, but stayed a wise distance away from the boar.

"Arthur," Merlin shouted, trying to calm his own horse who was shying from the scent of boar, just as Morgana was calling, "Merlin," behind him. They both leaped down and let their horses go, and Morgana grabbed Merlin around the shoulders to keep him back.

Everything slowed down, time bending without thought as Merlin tried to anticipate the scene unfolding. The boar was stamping, ready to charge again, and Arthur was almost free, caught only by his foot in the stirrup. Merlin could just--but Uther was pulling up hard beside him, leaping from the saddle and tossing the reins in Merlin's direction--and he couldn't. The king would see.

The boar charged and Arthur got to his hands and knees just in time to avoid the full force of the tusks, and they caught him in the arm instead. The boar took Arthur down with the blow, tumbling like a rag doll, and Merlin could see the way his arm bent with extra joints, blood spattering out over the yellow leaves. Arthur's scream mingled with the boar's angry squeal. Uther was running, sword out, but Merlin could see he wouldn't get to Arthur in time.

Merlin knew he could still--but Morgana had him in a vise grip, moaning, "No, no, no," over and over again in his ear, although whether she was telling Merlin not to act or the inevitable not to happen he didn't know. The boar spun around for another charge.

Merlin had a choice. He made it. He raised his hand and began to speak the words that would turn the boar to stone, and Morgana flung herself around in front of his outstretched hand so that Merlin was obliged to suck the words back in, and she grabbed his hand hard enough to grind his bones, her eyes fiery and desperate. "Wait," she said, her back to the scene, watching Merlin's face.

Arthur had pulled the dagger from his boot, the one that Merlin had tucked there that morning, and rolled awkwardly to his feet. He brandished the dagger in his good hand and then the boar was upon him. He spun out of the boar's path at the last second, burying the knife to the hilt in the creature's neck, and then Uther was there to catch it on his sword, and it was over horrifyingly quickly. The boar screamed as it died, and Arthur's legs fell out from under him. He crashed to the ground in an unconscious sprawl.

Merlin wasn't proud of the violent way he flung Morgana aside and raced to Arthur, but to her credit she didn't say anything about it later. Uther extricated himself from the boar's carcass and joined Merlin at Arthur's side, face stricken as he said Arthur's name, and then began shouting instructions to the rest of the hunting party, just arriving. As though from far away Merlin heard the sickening sounds of the broken horse's throat being cut, and the horrible groaning and thrashing stopped.

"Get my pack," Merlin called, but Morgana was already racing back and shoving it at him. Arthur's left arm was an absolute mess of blood, flesh, and fabric, and Merlin thanked all the stars and fates that Gaius had packed his bag full of medical supplies as he found the little shears and set to cutting the sleeve from Arthur's arm. As he pulled it away he caught sight of the blood-soaked button he remembered fumbling with that morning, and prayed his hands were steadier now.

Arthur moaned, regaining consciousness, and Uther said, "We need Gaius, you don't have the skill for this," as though he had any idea at all what Merlin was capable of. Merlin shot the king a look and growled, "Hold him down, we can't move him until he's stabilized."

Apparently whatever was in his face and voice convinced Uther that he was more than capable, because Uther moved around to the other side of Arthur and held him down by the shoulders, but Merlin didn't spare the king another glance. Arthur's forearm was broken at an odd angle, flesh torn and jagged, blood soaking into Merlin's breeches as he braced the arm on his thigh and examined it.

He could barely believe it, but all the tissue damage seemed to be from the tusks, and the bones although broken seemed not to have pushed through. It wasn't much, but it would improve Arthur's chances of recovering the use of his arm. His upper arm near the shoulder was also swollen strangely, and a quick feel of the area suggested that the bone might be cracked but not snapped. Merlin hung his head for the briefest moment in relief.

"What the hell are you waiting for," Arthur rasped at Merlin, who picked his head up and saw the prince awake and glaring at him, pale and sweaty, mouth drawn tightly in pain, and Merlin gave him a manic grin.

"I'm sorry, did you have somewhere to be?" he asked Arthur tartly, and Arthur closed his eyes and slumped back, breathing heavily. Uther started to take Merlin to task for his insubordination but Morgana put her hands on Uther's arm and whispered something in his ear, and the king subsided.

Merlin flushed the wound and set the bone, wincing when Arthur groaned and retched on the ground beside him. He put pressure on the lacerations until the blood slowed, and then he stitched it as neatly as he was able and wrapped it snugly, lashing it to a smooth branch one of the knights brought him. He found a powerful narcotic mixture in a little bottle and slipped his hand beneath Arthur's head, lifting him so he could drink it. He wiped the stray drops from Arthur's lips and didn't give a damn what the king might think.

The rest of the party hastily fashioned a litter out of poles and a couple of cloaks, and then Arthur was shifted onto it. All the while he groaned that he was fine, he could walk, and would they all stop coddling him, despite the fact that he couldn't even properly focus his eyes for the pain and blood loss and the medicine that was finally, blessedly, taking him toward sleep.

Uther took over from there, his commanding presence driving the party back toward Camelot at a brisk pace, and Merlin was left kneeling in the clearing surrounded by bloody yellow leaves and discarded strips of linen, a dead horse and a dead boar, his hands and his clothing soaked red. He stared for a long minute at the retreating group and the few huntsmen left behind to take care of the beasts, then down at his hands. There was something in his chest that wanted to get out, something as wild and frantic as the boar had been.

Morgana appeared beside him, kneeling in spite of all the blood, and threw her arms around Merlin for the second time that day, and this time he lifted his arms around her slight form and held on, and eventually the wild thing stopped trying to rip through his chest and he could breathe again.

*~*~*~*

Arthur was an absolutely insufferable invalid, as everyone in the castle knew well by then, but somehow Merlin couldn't bring himself to be annoyed by it. He still couldn't believe he'd managed, albeit with Morgana's influence, to be still and trust that fate wouldn't kill Arthur for good that time, and that he'd somehow saved Arthur anyway using only the science that Gaius had taught him. It wasn't the way Merlin would choose to save Arthur's life every time it was threatened, but he had to admit it felt pretty good, even though the king had yet to acknowledge Merlin's help.

For his part, Arthur seemed to take an inhuman enjoyment from ordering Merlin around from his sickbed, which Merlin responded to with abnormal cheerfulness and obedience. It was on the second evening of Arthur's confinement, his arm carefully tended by Gaius and wrapped more securely against motion or infection, that Arthur began to seem somewhat recovered. By the third time he'd had Merlin change the sheets beneath him because they were, quote, 'not fit for a stable boy to sleep upon,' Merlin began to get the notion that Arthur just didn't want him to leave.

He eyed Arthur carefully as he tucked the final corner in and found that Arthur was looking back just as intently. Arthur looked away after a moment and settled back into the freshly fluffed pillows, holding his arm close to his side.

"You know, if you wanted the company, you just had to ask."

Arthur glared at him. "If I wanted company, it would not be yours, Merlin."

Of course Merlin didn't believe him for a second. The flush in Arthur's cheeks gave him away better than anything. "Would you like me to read to you?" Merlin asked, spying a book on the bedside table.

"No," Arthur grumbled, then, "You can read?"

Merlin nodded, slightly insulted.

"Oh. No."

Merlin sighed and picked up Plato's _Republic_. He climbed up to sit on the edge of the bed beside Arthur, ignoring the righteous indignation, and began to read anyway. Arthur lay back on the pillows, his frown slowly easing from his brow, and every time Merlin glanced up Arthur was watching his mouth move as he read. It was very distracting, and more than once Merlin stumbled over the words like a schoolboy at lessons. After a while though he began to get into the spirit of the book, and it was then that Arthur reached out and pulled the book from Merlin's hands.

"Hey," Merlin protested, but Arthur was sitting up and looking stiff with the effort, but something was clearly on his mind so Merlin shut his mouth and waited.

"Thank you for saving my life," Arthur said, clearly and slowly.

Merlin blinked a few times. "I didn't. You killed the boar all by yourself, I had nothing to do with it at all!"

"Nitwit. I meant for my arm. Gaius told me you set it so well that there wasn't much for him to do but replace some of the stitches. He said if you'd waited until we got back to the castle for him to do it, it might have been too late. So, thank you."

Merlin felt overly warm. "Oh. Um. It was nothing."

Except it was so very obviously not nothing, and Arthur arched his eyebrow in a way that said 'I know how you really feel,' only Merlin was pretty sure he knew how Arthur really felt too, which meant that for the very first time ever he and Arthur were on the same page.

"Also, Merlin. I heard that you spoke harshly to my father."

"Because he's a prat, and I love you."

Arthur looked at him for a long moment, blue eyes throwing sparks, then he continued as though Merlin hadn't spoken. "Now, when we had that little conversation in the forest, you suggested to me that you could be discreet enough not to be noticed by my father. I have to say that you have failed spectacularly so far, and I am very disappointed in you. I'm going to kiss you in a moment, but before I do I want some kind of reassurance that you will go straight to Gaius first thing in the morning and have him explain the practical meaning of _discretion_ so we don't have this problem going forward."

Merlin sat frozen, staring. Arthur looked extremely patient. There seemed to be some kind of response required of him, so he nodded, hoping that was the right answer. It appeared to be because Arthur said, "Good," and reached out with his right arm and snagged Merlin by the neck, yanking him forward into a scorching kiss that stole all his breath from his lungs.

Arthur, with a strength that seemed at odds with his recent and serious injury, pulled Merlin down on top of him as he stretched out against the pillows, muttering, "Mind the arm, Merlin," in a voice that was probably meant to sound stern but really just hit Merlin in the gut with a velvet fist.

A little while later, when Merlin had stripped them of their clothes and had worked three slicked fingers between Arthur's legs and they were both breathing hard like tournament fighters and grinding messily against each other, Arthur said, as loftily as one could while being buggered, "As the crown prince of Camelot I am not permitted to love a servant, but if I was, I would love you," by which Merlin understood that Arthur did in fact love him, and which was really what Arthur had meant in the first place.

*~*~*~*

Arthur was still sleeping the slumber of the truly, happily, exhausted when Merlin slipped from his room, yellow morning light haloing his bright hair when Merlin glanced back for a final look before closing the door. Merlin hated to leave, in fact considered staying abed until Arthur chose to evict him bodily from it, but Merlin remembered hazily some conversation about discretion before the evening had become less about the talking, and thought it best to leave before anyone would see him. He touched the closed door briefly, as though the wood were Arthur himself, and then turned away and--abruptly stopped.

Morgana was there in the hallway, her eyes clearer than Merlin could remember them ever being before, her expression calm and peaceful.

"My lady," Merlin greeted her cautiously.

"Merlin," she replied, nodding her head politely. "How is Arthur this morning?"

"He's well enough, I believe," Merlin ventured, for lack of a more descriptive answer, and he was vaguely appalled to hear his voice crack.

Morgana smiled a slow, knowing smile. "I'm glad to hear it."

"And you, my lady? Did you sleep well?"

"I did, Merlin. I slept better than I have in...well. I had forgotten what it was like to wake easily and without pain."

Merlin grinned and, seeing that there was no one in the hall, reached out to touch her arm, pleased for her and thankful too, and thinking that discretion was occasionally overrated.

Morgana laughed a little, a quiet peal of bells, and below stairs Merlin could hear the castle waking. He shrugged and dropped his hand and she turned away smiling.

"I hope you'll feel free to tell me about any dreams you have in future, my lady," he said softly. "Maybe together we can puzzle them out."

"I did have another dream last night, Merlin," she admitted over her shoulder.

"And what kind of dream was it?" he asked, hoping against hope.

Her expression was thoughtful for a moment, her eyes seeing far, far away. Merlin thought for a moment he could see the woman she would become when things were different, when Arthur was king, and by extension he saw what they might all become. Her countenance remained serene but her gaze was bright. "It was a good dream."

~end~

**Author's Note:**

> This was written earlier in the series before a certain character was revealed to be, well, an evil skank. So this is the non-evil-skank version.


End file.
